


Afterimages

by Tish



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5930743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where memories, dreams, and hallucinations meet and clash, like waves dashed upon the rocks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterimages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zaganthi (Caffiends)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/gifts).



Blood, wine, and the smell of exertion, of a fight for life, a fight for death. The scents filled Will's mind to trigger memories and sensations half-forgotten, submerged, and suppressed.

\---

The blood-red wine in Will's glass tasted exquisite, subtle notes of walnut which complemented the tenderness of the meat. He savoured it as he swallowed, letting the after-taste seduce his taste buds.

Will watched as Hannibal closed his eyes as the cor anglais started a mournful solo, woodwind for the ears, wood notes for the mouth. A beautiful match.

Candlelight gleamed off Will's knife as he sliced along the potato, pushing a thin piece of steak through the jus and onto the fork. As he raised his eyes and let the food settle onto his tongue, he noticed Hannibal watching him, eyes hooded and almost expectant.

Will's blissful expression was his reply, and Hannibal gave a small, satisfied smile as he created his own small food sculpture and raised it to his lips.

\---

Hannibal's head felt warm and heavy against his own, and with the nuzzling and hot, panting breaths, it took all of Will's energy not to pounce on his lips with an animal frenzy, biting and tearing as he kissed. Instead, they plunged, letting gravity and the waves decide their fate. The heat of Hannibal's body and his embrace nearly lulled Will into sleep and what lay beyond.

They found each other's lips as they fell, and Will tasted blood and something metallic as they passionately kissed. It was awkward and fumbling, but neither cared, at least they had each other at the end.

 

Will looked into deep, dark pools as the moonlight danced over Hannibal's eyes. The darkness enveloped him, swallowing Will with an icy-cold grip, Hannibal pulling him down into the depths like the Demon Lover of lore once did. Will didn't struggle, he deepened their embrace and pulled Hannibal's head back to continue the kiss. 

He surrendered to the black chill around them and the weight of Hannibal's grip on him.

\---

In a kitchen a ghost walked, on a crumbling cliff-top another lay, neither cared about the footsteps of men now. The living still remembered, still hoped for news, still prayed for a safe return. But ghosts cannot return.

\---

He gasped, a battle for breath like a baby taking its first breath. The thumping in his ears receded away and Will opened his eyes. A dream, a hallucination perhaps. His eyes adjusted to the dark as the faint sounds of a concerto filtered from another room. A heartbreakingly sombre sound stood out and played a slow melody. Will swallowed saliva and tasted the after-effects of a blood-red wine. A ghost of a smile flickered somewhere in his memory, and he smiled back into the darkness.

 

Will closed his eyes and drifted away for a moment, for an hour, for a day. When he woke, there was a shadow in the darkness above him. 

A soft voice, a little gravelly, almost passionless in its intonation, words carefully chosen, asked, “going my way?” 

Will was silent for a moment, then answered. “Possibly.”

Hannibal settled on the bed next to him, face lost to the gloom. “Do you know your way?”

A sigh from Will. “It's lost to the sea.”

“Perhaps we could fish it out? Cast a line, and draw it back to us?” Hannibal pressed his lips to Will's cheek, a hand tracking down Will's chest and over his abdomen.

A dull afterimage of pain flickered across his body, like rain spattering over a grave. It ran its course and dissipated away to nothing.

Ghosts and scars haunted Will's mind, but Hannibal's hand was bringing him back to life and vitality. Hannibal's head moved down to join his hand and sent a shudder through Will, making him gasp for air. Something red glinted in Hannibal's eye, giving him a demonic air as he dragged Will down to the depths of desire.

Will didn't struggle against the rising warmth in his body, he clasped Hannibal's hair and pushed his head closer to his own body. He surrendered to the black and red heat around them and the weight of Hannibal's body on his legs, pinning him down, dragging him deeper inside.

Will gasped, a battle for breath like a drowning man taking his last breath. The thumping in his ears grew louder and Will closed his eyes.

Dream, reality, or death impressions as the brain shut down, Will didn't care. He didn't care about the footsteps of men now.

 

The living still remember, still hope for news, still pray for a safe return. But ghosts cannot return.


End file.
